10 Uses For A Sheet
by johnsarmylady
Summary: We know Sherlock likes to wear sheets - hence his attire when visiting Buckingham Palace. Here (eventually) are 10 other uses he might find for a sheet, a collection of 221B's suggested to me by the wonderful MrsPencil. Rated M, because I don't know where these will go, but I can promise any Johnlock chapters will be noted as such for those of you who don't partake...
1. A Man's Alibi Depends On It

**A while back the wonderful MrsPencil suggested this subject to me - 10 Uses For A Sheet - inspired by A Scandal In Belgravia. I plan to write them as a series of 221B's. Welcome to chapter 1**

"Can we remove it now Sherlock?" John's voice was muffled, but if it hadn't been it would have sounded resigned.

"Soon John, I just need to measure timings and effects." The consulting detective sat at the kitchen table making notes. "The victim's statement said two hours and I need to disprove that, a man's alibi depends on it."

"Really? Two hours? If I end up with…"

But Sherlock wasn't listening; he was too busy making notes about the effect of time on his test, if not his test subject. John might not have been there, for all the notice Sherlock was taking.

The blond doctor shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Keep still!" Sherlock barked. "Stephen McRae said two hours, and he was unconscious for most of that, ergo not moving."

"Then how did he know it was two hours?" John's teeth were chattering now.

Sherlock stopped.

"Say that again."

"How did…"

"His watch! Of course!" Ripping the ropes from around John he pulled the wet cloth away. "His watch was cheap; the water would have got into the works and stopped it, so he couldn't have been held captive!"

Wearily John stood up, heading for a warm shower and dry clothes.

"Well That's good. Just make sure you dry that sheet before you try to put it back on the bed!"


	2. A Well Laid Table

John's happy mood dissipated, and was replaced by suspicion as he walked into the flat and caught the unmistakable smell of air freshener.

Sherlock looked up from the book he was reading, his expression far too innocent, stood, stretched, and then walked past the doctor into the kitchen.

"Tea?" he asked, switching on the kettle and pulling mugs out of the cupboard.

"You never make tea."

"I do sometimes." Even his hurt expression looked somehow… wrong.

John cautiously stepped into the kitchen. All the work surfaces were scrubbed clean, the breakfast things had been washed up and put away, and even the kettle gleamed. John's heart sunk. Something was horribly wrong.

"Chinese?" Sherlock asked, then noted John's frown. "I even cleared the kitchen table and laid it, table cloth, cutlery, the works."

His voice was almost childlike, and John was about to berate himself for his suspicions when Sherlock's words sunk in. He looked closer at the table.

"We don't have a tablecloth. That's a sheet!"

"No it's…"

"What have you done?"

"Why should I have done anything?"

"Because I know you too well"

Side-stepping Sherlock's attempt to stop him, John reached for the sheet and flipped it off the table, sending cutlery clattering to the floor.

"I knew it." He sighed, looking at the wooden table top, burned and blackened.


	3. A Sheet Revenge

**This one has an established Mystrade relationship, but no Mycroft!**

Returning from a late shift at St Mary's, John was surprised to see Lestrade sitting in his chair, an empty glass hanging limply from his fingers.

Sherlock wandered in from the kitchen, a cup of coffee in one hand, a sheaf of papers in the other. John looked at him.

"What happened?"

"He and my brother have had an argument, he thought he'd come here and tell me about it."

John rolled his eyes, and looked at the sleeping man.

"Did he drink all of that?" Removing the glass from Greg's lax fingers, John indicated the reduced volume of liquid in the bottle.

Sherlock hummed.

"I'll take that as a yes then." Depositing the glass in the sink and the brandy back in the cupboard, John switched the kettle on and got out two mugs, planning to make the detective inspector a cup of tea, but his hand was stayed as Sherlock appeared beside him, a sly smile on his face.

"You remember when that Adler woman drugged me, and Greg filmed it? I have a plan…"

Half an hour later, when Mycroft's driver arrived to collect the errant police officer, the boys assisted him downstairs and into the back seat, giggling as they did so.

Lestrade was wearing just a sheet, fashioned into a nappy, like a very large baby.


End file.
